Jittering
by OddLittleBrit
Summary: There's a routine at world meetings, and it's stuck to. If something's wrong, you say. England figures that out the hard way. CHARACTER DEATH, FrUK at the very end


**AN: Hey there! I apologise in advance, I wrote this little thing late last night and I was falling asleep but the idea came to me and it came out pretty weird. I'm sorry for killing all the nations XD Enjoy though!**

**WARNING: Character death**

**DISCLAIMER: Yeah, Hetalia still isn't mine. **

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As far as meetings went, the latest hadn't been any different from the rest so far. The same people shouted the same things, the same nations had the same arguments and everyone had their place; it was routine by now, a pattern they had fallen into. Being immortal meant a lot of change, as their land changed, as time progressed and the humans became evermore adventurous. The meetings therefore, were the constant. The heart that thudded all the time, simple and unchanging. It was a comforting piece of routine in an otherwise hectic life.

It makes sense then, that any disruption to the normal meeting would spook them. It just wasn't done. It was weird. Germany was first to notice, when nobody interrupted America's speech for the first fifteen minutes. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had been talking longer than usual, but France soon insulted someone, which sparked an argument that made German forget his uneasiness. Italy noticed it too, how there wasn't as much complaining as usual - usually he was asking people to calm down by now, wasn't he? America felt it, as did Japan, Spain, Russia, China, all the nations - and that other blonde who looked like America. There was an undercurrent of confusion in the room. It wasn't until America stood up again that they really questioned it.

"Alright guys, what's happening? Something's not right in here, and as the hero, it's my duty to find out what!"

A wave of murmurs and rolled eyes flooded the room and England pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh please America, nobody needs your nonsense, will you just shut up?" he looked up despairingly at the American.

"Say Britain, dude, you've been awfully quiet, are you sure it ain't you who's weirding stuff up?" England sighed, before France interrupted.

"Oui, you 'ave not argued with anyone yet, and you 'ave normally already insulted most of us!" he remarked, earning a glare.

"Shut it, frog. I'm not in the mood for any of it today, can we just get back to the meeting?" he asked, bringing a hand to his temple. He pressed his eyes shut massaging the sides of his head with a frown. The other nations glanced at each other quickly. Germany regarded the Brit for a minute, then spoke up.

"England, are you sure you are well? You have been quiet, and to be honest, you do not look too good." England waved his hand dismissively, pulling the corners of his mouth up into a slither of a smile.

"Yes; I'm fine, just a headache, I'll live," he said, glancing at the other nations. It wasn't just a headache, he knew, it was the most crippling pain he had ever felt, and he had the most uncomfortable sensation of nausea running through him, but he wasn't going to let slip. He didn't need to worry them just yet. When they still hadn't moved, he chuckled. "Really, I'm fine, continue."

The nations were soon piling papers into bags as they prepared to leave, but England was not one of them. He sat, hands absently twisting a pen between his fingers. He had been mid-sentence and suddenly lost his train of thought. France slid his bag over his shoulder and turned to England.

"Angleterre? Are you ready to go, we're 'eading to the bar, remember?" It took a few second ago get a response, but England looked up eventually.

"Oh, yes," he said, hastily shoving things into his briefcase. "Thank... Th.. Thank..." his mouth gaped for a second, as he struggled to find the words he was looking for. He winced, the pain in his head making it harder to think. He pressed a shaking fist to his forehead. "Thank you, F-France!"

Somewhere in the sentence, the name had become a cry, as Arthur shuddered painfully. His eyes shot open, staring into France's, who stared at his old friend. He could do nothing but stare as England's whole body flickered, as though he were a broken video. Numbness flooded him as he literally flickered in and out of existence.

"Arthur!" Francis cried, running forward to grasp the nation. His hand met solid flesh, which then became air, and then flesh again. He cradled the nation to his chest, England lying in his lap trying desperatlnto breath properly. With a sinking feeling, he knew what was happening.

"A-Arthur, why didn't you say?! We could 'ave 'elped!" England winced again, his hand fumbling for his heart, which was pounding far to fast to be good. He shook his head, speaking through gritted teeth.

"It's. No. Use... Too. Late. God!" his back arched suddenly and for one terrible moment France feared the man would vanish there and then, in his arms. His country was falling apart and there was nothing he could do. France swallowed thickly. "A-Arthur... I'm sorry! I-If I 'ad known what was-"

"You couldn't," England breathed. "Francis, listen - it's too quick. Too fast. I thought... I thought it was an economy issue... Nothing. You could do," he managed, before his body faded in and out again. "Listen," he blurted, grasping the Frnachman's coat.

"I... You're my friend, you know that? I like... I like you F-Francis. And I like Alfred, and Ludwig, Feliciano, Ivan-" his eyes fluttered shut for a second, but he pushed on. "Matthew... And Matthew. You have to know that, yes? Tel them, for me? All of them, I cared. And you," he choked. He pulled Francis closer, pressing himself into the warm embrace of his favourite Frenchman.

"You're my... Best... friend...best... everything..." His emerald eyes softened, as he felt the last connections with his country shatter. Arthur looked up at the nation above him. A smile graced his lips, as he silently pressed them against France's. "Je t'aime Francis..."

As England flickered out of existence for a final time, Arthur Kirkland died peacefully in the arms of his lover.


End file.
